Truth Behind Elegance
by Silver Blazen
Summary: She knew that her choices would define the future. Her brother didn't see her being an ordinary housewife. He saw a fighter in her ready to charge into battle. And she deserved to choose a life that wouldn't be guarded by a pledge to a convenient marriage, she'd wanted to prove to herself that she was strong. Most of all, she wanted to him to stay home.


**Truth Behind Elegance**

 **All characters belong to Marvel and ABC studios**

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It had been a perfect night for Peggy to share the new found pledge of her heart; her friends planned the engagement party, decorating the park with candlelight and a white sheet hung on a low branch with the red scribble of her name and the man she was going to marry-Fred. Tables were set up around parked cars, and music blared, as Peggy sat at her table, sharing a drink with her older brother. There had been a rift between them after Michael left home to join the British Armed Forces; the bond was diminished as he was ranked captain, and spent much of his ventures in fox holes and darkened forests surrounding Germany. Tonight was an exception to restore what had been lost, to share stories about the real world, but most importantly, Peggy wanted his blessing her marriage.

"You have a chance to do something amazing, you could slay the dragons that some men can't fight, Peg." Michael whispered a soft declaration to her; searching in her dark eyes. Disbelief shone in his gentle hazel irises as he stared her down. He believed in his baby sister, through all their childhood adventures, he had followed her onward, fighting at her side. Time was limited between them as Fred stood in the background, talking to a few of his friends. He had to make his words count.

He glanced warily at his peaked cap that held the engraving of his pledge to his King and country. A sigh managed to escape his lips as he dared to look back at Peggy, waiting for his endowment on her marriage–new life–he knew that she was destined for greater things than becoming a wife. He wanted to her give a second chance to embrace the purpose that he saw blazing in her stubborn heart.

"I knew a little girl once, who dreamed of adventure, instead of tea parties and seeking a suitor too pleased her mother's affection…. When I look at you, I can still see that silly little girl that wore a cape and held a wooden sword that bashed evil on nod." Peggy wore an afforded semblance, the curve of her burgundy lips pursed tightly. Still, he pressed on, hoping to reach her. "Why are you so guarded by privileges that mean nothing to you… Stop pretending to please those who can't see the real you... You are meant to march into battle, with your sword held up high."

Peggy wanted to dismiss those words; tears were brimming in her eyes. It deeply hurt, mostly because it was true. Her brother was always her shield, protecting her from imaginary witches and trolls of their childish games and escapes from their strict household –Michael was a vigilant and chivalrous man that drove his defiance and unyielding heart into the jaws of battle. He fought for England's freedom, and understood what the values of sacrifice meant as he experienced every day at the front.

The war was calling him back, in few days he would enter the borders of France, and lead his battalion on another mission—she would remain locked under white veil, staring out at the world through her bedroom window, wishing that she was fighting at his side. For so long, Peggy lived in false happiness, being the actress to gain her mother's approval –never the recognition that she wanted. It was her brother's gentle and endearing spirit always raised up her hope to believe in the impossible. She didn't want to admit that she was going to miss him dearly; letters would never be enough to keep their memories alive. She looked back into the flickers of candlelight, seeking a distraction from the truth that sparkled in her brother's gaze. "The little girl you knew is all grown up. I have no reason to pretend to slay dragons anymore." Her heart was aching. "Fred is going to become my husband and I will honor the value of his love dearly…"

Michael nodded wordlessly, sipping his drink. He had to honor Peggy's choice of shoving away her chance of being an official for the SOE (Special Operations Executive), and marrying a good soldier –an honorable man who only saw a mere reflection of the woman he beheld all his life. He glanced at her engagement ring, and felt the tension rising between them. "Fred is a grand enough chap, but ask yourself Peg, is this man the love of your life?"

Peggy suddenly became tight lipped to answer. She tore her dark eyes away, roving a teary gaze at the tables where her friends and schoolmates laughed and spilled drinks on the white satin clothes. This wasn't her world. The flame in her soul would dim if she chose to walked down the aisle. Her heart couldn't be certain if she desired that future. "Why on earth would you ask a ridiculous thing like that Michael?" She returned in a measure of resentment, keeping herself poised. Her chocolate orbs narrowed at the diamond shaped heart as it shadowed her dainty finger. She could tell that he was protecting her, holding her back. "I love Fred with all my heart, what better convenient reason do you wants?"

He set his jaw into a hard clench of hand effortlessly reached for his cap. "I want my little sister to fight for love… To find a good chap that's the best this world can offer, I don't care if he is a hellbent soldier or just skinny nobody… If he values you more than beauty and rosy powder, than I will stand at your wedding." He pulled out his chair and rose up straight and firm, feeling resistance merging against torrents in his veins. He cast a passive gaze at the calm water of the sea behind them. "Until then, my dear sister…"

Peggy lunged forward and seized his wrist, preventing him from taking another step. "What do I have to prove to you?" she demanded tersely, hot tears glistened in her eyes. "Tell me!"

He pulled away, adjusting his cap over the nearly parted wave of chestnut hair, and became the soldier with enviable resilience again. His shoulders went rigid and fair, commanding features battle honed. Under his service uniform his heart was swelling against the onslaught of emotions that whirled inside anew. This is not how he wanted to say goodbye. He had to leave to her. Peggy's touch was a pulse of desperation. They were fighters to their battles that waited for them. Tears glimmered in his steady eyes. "It's not what you have to prove to me, but to yourself, Peg."

He attentively reached for her face, stroking his rough fingers with delicate reverence. Vague memories of their childhood, their many adventures in the back gardens emerged from his thoughts. Everything was happening all too fast, they had grown up, creating new lives while drifting further apart. None of it seemed fair at all. Through the pain, he managed to give her a tender smile. "Never stop fighting for what you believe is worth saving," he admonished. "Find a new adventure and carry it forth."

There were so many things Peggy wanted say to him, the real reason why she dismissed that letter. She didn't have his courage, his defiance -she was a lady that worn the finest silks and velvet, not a uniform. Women weren't meant to become part of war; home was where they stayed…their place in a dark and chaotic world. Peggy knew that was where she belonged, away from the battle front.

"Can you not stay another night?" Peggy requested, in a gentler pitch filled of bereavement, sensing the impending storm as it prepared to clash. She stood in her brother's shadow, no longer distant as the world dimmed into haze of soft light. Music on the radio tuned down, and laughter faded. It was her and Michael, in the division of candlelight and shadow. "We can practice my dance for the wedding; you know that I can't do it without my best partner," she coaxed, purposely curving her cherry lips into a sweet, impish smile. "You do owe me another dance, Michael Carter…"

"I do owe my little sister a dance," his tone held a genuine cadence and his eyes bright and promising. He leaned in forward, the softness of his lips settled against her forehead, holding a warm kiss of reverence there, quietly murmuring to the pace of her sighing heart. "Afraid we must wait to dance until another time, Peg."

"Go and slay a dragon for me, Michael," Peggy whispered adamantly, staring up into his gentle hazel eyes for a moment. She had to let him go. With a steady and assuring breath, she caressed her hand over his jaw, brushing her fingers gentle and repetitive strokes against youthful skin, sealing warmth and her faith in him as she became hesitant to pull away. She wanted to trade all their conflicts away. Weight pressed against her heart. Tears made a slow of descent over her ivory cheeks. Her eyes twinkled with alight of certainty. She felt a level of hope that he would hold that promise. "All I asked of you is to never lose your way back home."

Michael smiled with a measure of tenderness, and gracelessly receded a step back. "Don't walk down the aisle until I return, Peg."

She grinned back. "You're a terrible brother, you know that..."

He tipped his cap to her. "You're a stubborn girl..." He stomped his boots over the grass, moving in closer as she embraced him into a loving hug.

Peggy shook her head, smiling as he winked at her. "You better not be late for my wedding, Sir Michael."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, he felt a boyish smile ease over his lips. He loved his sister. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Lady Carter."

She saluted him.

Tears shone in their eyes.

It was a memory worth fighting for.

 **{The End}**


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